


Skin of your Teeth

by tresa_cho



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Daemon, Drama, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's mostly recovered, but Clint's struggles with himself aren't over yet. The Avengers are called together once more to help solve the mystery of why people are disappearing all over the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Coulson found his daemon on Christmas Day, cliché as that was.

Snow fell softly around them, layering everything in a smooth, clean blanket. The sounds of tourists wandering Central Park was reduced to the crunching of booted feet in snow.

Clint approached them, Tasha huddled on her knees around Phil and his border collie, hiding his tears from passers-by. Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and stood over them, glaring at anyone who had the balls to look at them funny. He heard Tasha murmuring to Phil in Russian, their words meaningless chatter to Clint's ears.

He squashed down the jealousy that flared, knowing that everything was too fresh. Wounds still seeped from the tesseract fiasco, physical and emotional. He didn't have a right to lay claim on anything Tasha and Phil had gone through together, while he was off playing fetch for Loki.

Tasvyer landed on his shoulder, nuzzling up to his ear. “I smell blood,” she said.

Clint rubbed his fingers through her chest feathers and stepped closer to Tasha. He crouched. “Sir, your stitches.”

“For the love of Christ, Clint,” Phil said, lifting his head. It wasn't right. His eyes were red, but the firm, determined lines of his face hadn't wavered. “My name is Phil.”

“Barton's right,” Tasha said, lifting her head. “This trip was too much.”

“Too much?” Phil echoed. “I found her. We've been separated for weeks. This can't-” He choked himself off, shaking his head.

“Okay. Let's go home,” Tasha said softly. She pinned Clint with a glare. “You too.”

Clint helped Phil to his feet, but let him lean against Tasha as they walked. He ached to touch them, but kept his fists clenched tight in his jacket pockets. Tasvyer huddled in on herself, perched on his shoulder like a parrot.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice low.

“I'll be fine,” she said.

The snow was almost six inches deep by the time they reached Tasha's short term housing. It was a quaint studio flat, with a sectioned kitchen and massive bedroom area. Fury had agreed to the acquisition of a king size bed without blinking his one eye, something that Clint would have to get the secret to once Tasha had a moment.

Inside the flat, Tasha efficiently stripped Phil of his wet coat, boots, and trousers. She bundled him into her massive, outrageously expensive bed. Phil's daemon leaped onto the bed and wriggled under the sheets to lay with him, until Clint couldn't see Phil's face buried in her fur.

Only when Tasvyer heard their breathing even out did she relax, sinking into the neckline of his coat. Tasha shook icicles out of her hair, approaching him. “You going to stay?”

“I should get back-”

“You're allowed to be out under the escort of vetted agents,” she said. “Of which I happen to be one.”

Off came her sweater, revealing the strong lines of her throat. Clint forced his eyes elsewhere. “It's late.”

He turned, but she caught his arm and yanked him back. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“I don't understand,” Clint said. Tasha pursed her lips.

“Stop running away from us,” she said. “Phil needs you. He needs you here. And you're doing exactly what he doesn't need right now.”

“He doesn't need to worry if I'm going to ice over,” Clint said.

“You're not going to ice over,” Tasha said. “We've dealt with the tesseract. Thor took it home. It's locked away. He won't touch you again, Clint.”

She reached for him again, and he stepped back. She folded her arms over her chest, her eyebrows twisting down.

“How long are you going to keep martyring yourself? We all have bad missions. We all do things that we're not proud of.” She backed him into the door. “I will hit you again. Don't tempt me.”

“Please don't,” Clint said.

“Stay,” she said.

“I can't. You know I can't.” Clint twisted the door knob. “I'm sorry.”

Tasha let him go, let him open the door and slip out. He trotted down the stairs, flipping his phone open as he went. “Clint Barton, fifteen minutes out.”

“Very good, sir. Will you be requiring anything upon your return?”

“Just the immense pleasure of your company, JARVIS,” Clint said. “Can you put a trace on the phone and report it to Fury for me?”

“Already done, sir. Drive safely. The weather forecast predicts continued snowfall this evening.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. See you in a few.” Clint hung up and slid the phone into his pocket. The front door opened against a cold wind, and Tasvyer curled tight into his scarf.

He had to brush a thin layer of snow off his bike covering before peeling it back. He swung one leg over the saddle and perched.

“You realise only idiots and Catholic suicides bike in six inches of snow,” Tasvyer said.

“Nobody asked you.” Clint kicked the bike to life and slowly puttered out of the slick parking spot. The first slide of his wheels forced Clint to consider that this maybe hadn't been the best idea.

It took him forty five minutes to reach Stark's garage, and when he finally pulled in, Tony was waiting for him.

“Thought we'd be digging you out of the ice,” he said when Clint powered down the bike.

Clint tugged off his helmet and stood. “Sorry, sir. I should have called.”

“At least call me Stark,” he said. His ring-tailed mongoose daemon slumped around his neck like a scarf, her eyes fierce on Clint as he moved. With good reason.

Stark opened the door into the tower and Clint averted his eyes from the pass-code. Stark sighed, long suffering. “It's fingerprint protected, backed by an alpha-numeric code that changes daily. Even if something happened- which it won't- you wouldn't be able to get in.”

Clint tensed.

“Yes, you are that obvious. Yes, I think you're a moron, and no I'm not going to stop harassing you.” Stark's voice echoed as they made their way up the stairs to the lobby. The short, dark stairwell opened to an expansive room, darkened for the evening. Stark's shoes clacked expensively against the floor, and he led them to an elevator up.

“Steve's asleep on the couch. I finally got him to pass out, you know how he gets in the cold weather, so if you wake him I swear to god I will pull all your tail feathers,” Stark said when they were in the elevator. “Pull them out, that is.”

“Understood, sir.” Clint couldn't help the smirk at Tasvyer's trill of irritation.

The elevator doors opened to Stark's entertainment room, the massive windows a beautiful scene of New York in the winter. The lights on this floor were dimmed too, and as they passed by Clint saw Steve tucked up on the couch with his daemon. They shifted, restlessly tugging at the sheet draped over them. Stark paused to ensure Steve didn't kick it all the way off, and then made his way to the bar.

“Jack?”

“No thank you,” Clint said, keeping his voice low. He unzipped his jacket and caught Tasvyer as she fell out of his scarf. The barstool was cool from disuse.

“You'll drink it or I'll shove it down your throat. You just drove, in the snow, five miles on the back of a speeding death beacon in the dead of night on Christmas.” Stark slammed the shot glass down in front of him. “Now take it.”

“You're one to talk,” Clint said before downing the shot. It burned good going down, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had decent whiskey.

“I have no idea what you're on about,” Stark said, tipping back his own glass. “I will force you to accept my hospitality if I have to chain you to your nest.”

“I don't nest,” Clint said for the thousandth time. Tasvyer stuck her head in his glass and he pushed her away.

“Yeah, but it's funny. Right. Hawk, nest?” Stark set his glass in the sink behind the bar.

“Coulson found her.”

Stark stilled, the lines of his shoulders tightening. “Where was she?”

“She made her way to Central Park,” Clint said. “Natasha suggested we see the lights so we were walking.”

“I'll tell JARVIS to stop running scripts,” Stark said. “Is he-”

“He's fine. Natasha's watching him. They're resting.” Clint let his finger trail the edge of the glass. Tasvyer tried to nudge up under his palm but he leaned back in the chair, dropping his hands in his lap.

“You didn't have to come back. Romanov can keep an eye on you. Or four.” Stark leaned heavily against the counter. His hands were steady. This wasn't his first drink of the evening. “Have you seen her daemon?”

Clint pushed himself up from the bar. “Mind your own business.”

“Tomorrow then?” Stark hissed as Clint left him.

Clint vaulted up the stairs to his room. Tasvyer flew ahead of him, circling the stairwell over his head. He reached his room and pushed the door open. Tossing his jacket on the bed, he moved to the huge, sloping windows that Stark had selected for him. He unlatched the windows and threw them open.

Tasvyer zoomed past him, cutting so close Clint felt the air rustle beside his ear. Piercing the night with a shriek, she soared towards the ocean.

“Fly true,” Clint whispered, eyes on her until she was no more than a speck on the horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jane!”

Thor's explosive laugh shook all of them. Clint just barely removed himself from the Asgardian's path as he flung himself into the conference room towards a petite brunette.

She squealed when he picked her up and spun her, looping her arms around his thick neck. He slipped an arm under her knees and held her as the rest of the team filed in and took their seats around the conference table.

“Hey, big guy!” Another brunette slapped Thor's thick bicep. “You didn't say you were bringing a party!”

“If you're quite finished.” Nick Fury strode into the room, his lioness daemon close on his heels.

Clint and the team sat, except for Thor, who seemed content to stand in the corner with Jane in his arms. Jane's friend sat at Fury's right, staring at Stark. Tasha kicked Clint's ankle under the table, and Steve sat on her other side. Clint carefully schooled his expression when none other than Bruce Banner walked into the room, followed by a woman in pinstripes and sensible heels. Tasha kicked him again for staring.

They marched right up to Fury and stood at his left.

“I've assembled you together again for a matter that concerns global safety. Once again, I am asking you to use your collective talents to help us secure our place in the universe.” Fury placed his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.

“With all due respect, sir, why should we trust you?”

Clint pressed his lips into a fine line. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was questioning his superior officer.

“You lied to us on multiple occasions on our last mission. You misled us regarding the status of one of our team. You manipulated us into a unit to further your purpose,” Steve said. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting lightly on the table. Stark inclined his head towards the man. “If our lives are on the line again, I think you're going to have to give us something good.”

“We've found an alethiometer.”

Silence suffocated the room.

“That's. Erm. Good.” Stark stumbled around the words. His mongoose sat on the table, quivering with tension, her eyes on Fury as if he were the only one in the room.

“They were all destroyed,” Steve said. “It's recorded. You can't have one.”

“We can and we do,” Fury said. “What's more, we have found someone capable of reading it.”

“Impossible,” Stark said. “Utterly impossible. The witches were wiped out long ago. It's a known fact that Lyra Belacqua's line perished in Europe during World War II. There is nobody on this planet that has the ability to read the alethiometer. We've destroyed all trace of them-”

“Sit down, Stark.”

Stark looked around, eyebrows furrowing. He sank slowly into his chair. Steve cast a worried look at him but said nothing.

“Yes, the witches are gone. Yes, Belacqua's line ended during the war. They were not the only ones with the power. We've discovered the ability here in this room, matter of fact.” Fury straightened.

“You can't be serious,” Stark said. “Her? Bruce, are you cheating on me with some Harvard grad?”

Banner's lips lifted in a smirk. “I'd never. This is Doctor Allison Cruz, the world's leading expert on the alethiometer. And no, she can't read it.”

“I'm here on a consulting basis only,” the woman said. “Director Fury requested my presence personally.”

“I'm sure he did,” Stark said. Tasha kicked him under the table this time.

“Miss Lewis?” Fury ignored Stark.

“Darcy?” Jane climbed out of Thor's grasp and ran to her friend.

“Oh hey! I was going to tell you but they said I couldn't.” Her friend grinned. “I'm special! Who knew?”

“Who is this? What does she have to do with an ancient magic?” Stark was on his feet again. “She's a college kid!”

“Grad student,” Darcy threw in.

“The art was lost, there's no way she could possibly know how to read that thing! How do you even know it's authentic?” Stark started to round the conference table, but Steve grabbed his arm and held him in place.

“Excuse you,” Darcy said. “You haven't even given me a chance.”

Fury tossed a velvet bag on the table in front of Darcy. She tugged the drawsting open and pulled out a large, golden compass.

“Go on, then, ask me something,” she said, cradling the device in both hands. Her capuchin monkey daemon hovered on her shoulder, alternating between growling at Stark and combing his fingers through Darcy's hair.

“What's the thirty second number in pi?” Stark asked.

Darcy heaved a sigh. “Something nobody else would know, doofus. Something, like, meaningful.”

“What did I miss when my plane went down in the Arctic?” Steve said. A reverent silence followed his question as all eyes turned to Darcy.

She lowered the compass into her lap. Her monkey nudged her glasses down to the tip of her nose and she stared over the lenses. She frowned after a moment. “Dancing?” She looked up and blinked at Steve. “You missed a date to dance.”

Steve sank into the chair like a puppet with its strings cut. His malamute daemon whined and pressed up into his hand. He smoothed her ears back.

“Well?” Stark asked. Could the man be any more obnoxious?

“She's right.” Steve closed his eyes. “She's right.”

“I'm sure you're all dying to 'prove' her abilities, but this isn't a circus. No offense, Barton-”

“None taken, sir.”

“- and we have actual problems to attend to.” He waved at Banner and Cruz, and they both sat. “People are disappearing.”

“People disappear every day,” Tasha said.

“Important people are disappearing,” Fury said. “The Secretary of State has gone missing. Nobody has seen or heard from her in over eight hours.”

“Maybe she's taking a really long nap,” Stark pointed out. Fury rolled his eye.

“Or maybe she's been kidnapped,” Fury said.

“One person isn't a pattern,” Stark said.

“No, but the Queen's nephew, the Russian ambassador to China, the Japanese Minister of Defense, and the entire Palestinian border patrol strongly suggests this is not an isolated incident.” Fury leaned back in his chair and flicked a switch on the console in front of him. The lights in the room dimmed.

A globe shimmered into existence over the table, points of light scattered across its surface. Stark's technology never ceased to amaze Clint, and when he reached out to touch the globe it spun on its axis.

“Each point of light is a recorded instance of someone disappearing under similar, suspicious circumstances,” Fury said.

“That's not many,” Steve said.

“Excuse me?” Fury turned to Steve. Clint counted at least ten dots on the North American continent alone.

“What about civilians?” Steve asked. “Are they being taken? Has anyone reported a civilian gone missing?”

“It's a bit early for civilian reports to be coming through,” Stark said, cutting over Fury. “Police won't even take a report if the person hasn't been missing for twenty four hours.”

“This was left behind by every missing person reported,” Fury said. He slid his hand over the globe and it disappeared. In its place was a two sided card. One side displayed a minimalistic sketch of the alethiometer, and the other, a message.

“ 'release the one'?” Stark peered at the inscription. “What one? What a cryptic ransom note. One person? One million? One rare Japanese beetle? This is ridiculous, how are we supposed to know what the Baddie of the Week wants?”

“We have reason to believe 'the one' is the person capable of reading the alethiometer,” Banner said. Stark leaned back in his chair.

“Why were you even brought in on this?” he asked. “You're not a specialist in alethiometry.”

“I offered,” Banner said, his glasses flashing in the dim light. “Fury said he was getting the team back together. Thought it might be fun.”

“Fun, I approve of,” Stark said. “You have no daemon.”

Clint covered his mouth with a hand, eyes going to Doctor Cruz. Stark was right. Clint couldn't see a daemon with her. She certainly didn't move or act like someone who'd been intercised.

“I have a daemon,” Cruz said, nonplussed by Stark's rudeness. “Perhaps I'd rather not flaunt him where the strongest humans in the planet can lay eyes on him. Your own agent's daemon is hidden, is he not?”

Tasha stiffened, sitting up just a bit straighter in her chair. “That's of no concern to you,” she said.

“I'm merely stating that I have a daemon, and he's none of your business,” Cruz said. She pushed her glasses up her nose, a motion that reminded Clint endearingly of Banner. “The point is that this group is kidnapping prominent figures around the world, trying to gain access to the person who can read the alethiometer.”

“Why?” Steve asked. Innocent Steve.

Cruz stared at him. “Unlimited power? The answers to the universe at one's fingertips? The ability not just to play god, but to be god? I can't imagine why anyone would want such power.”

Stark leaned close to Steve. “That was sarcasm.”

Steve rolled his shoulder, trying to brush off Stark's whispered words. “I know that.”

“I have brought you here to organise a protection detail for Miss Lewis,” Fury said. “Until we can figure out who is orchestrating these kidnappings, she is to be considered under direct threat at all times. We cannot allow her power to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Sitting right here.” Darcy waved a hand.

“Rogers will be leading the team. You will rotate through shifts until we can apprehend the criminals responsible,” Fury said. “Stark, Banner, you're on research duty. Find this group, find the leader, and get them in here.”

Stark rolled his eyes but stood, and when Banner approached him, captured him in a massive hug. Banner laughed, pounding him on the back in return. Stark's mongoose rolled on the floor with Banner's scraggly alley cat. They left the room, presumably to do sciency things. Cruz followed them.

Steve stood. “Barton, Romanov, first rotation.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clint nodded and stood with Tasha. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand as they moved towards their charge. Darcy stood, grinning.

“Oh yay. I get the hot ones,” she said. She slid the alethiometer back into its velvet casing.

“Miss Lewis?” Fury cut in. Darcy paused in the middle of placing the bag into her purse. “Hand it over.”

Darcy pouted but tossed Fury the alethiometer. Jane linked arms with Darcy and leaned in close. “Thor will be watching you, too.”

“Awesome! I get the whole crew. This is so cool. Are we going to have slumber parties with spandex and muffins?” Darcy asked. Tasha stared at her.

“I don't think Fury would allow the requisition of cake mix,” Clint said, deadpan. Darcy laughed. Her monkey hung from her elbow, chittering with pleasure.

“But this means you have to go wherever I go, right?” Darcy asked. Clint nodded. “Awesome. I have a posse.”

“By which, you mean, they are going to come with us and sit in our lab,” Jane said. Darcy groaned.

“I wanted to walk around campus and show them off!” she said as they left the conference room. “The equations can wait. The fabric of the universe isn't going anywhere.”

“The equations can't wait, and the universe does go somewhere,” Jane said. She glanced at Clint. “Sorry, but you're in for a nice thrilling afternoon of sitting.”

Turned out to be an afternoon of standing. After an annoyingly long flight on SHIELD's private jet, Tasha parked herself in front of the expansive windows overlooking the Bay in Jane's research lab. Clint stood at the one door to the room. It was amusing to watch Jane and Darcy work. Darcy spun on her chair, continuously clicking pens or her heels or clipboards. She was always in motion. Jane focused intensely on what she had in front of her with a fervor that would have made Tasha proud.

It was well past nine in the evening when the girls finally broke, standing and stretching. Clint ignored his stomach attempting to eat itself and fell into step behind Darcy as she left the lab.

“See you tomorrow,” Jane said as they parted ways. Darcy waved.

“So are you guys, like, not allowed to talk to me or something?” Darcy asked.

“We can talk to you,” Clint said. “I just don't think we'd be able to keep up with the research you're doing.”

“Oh, I can't keep up with it either,” Darcy said. She led them towards the town that cradled the research centre. “I just got into it accidentally. And then, the whole, you know, alien thing. Sworn to secrecy, can't leave even if I wanted to thing. It's rough. I'm sure you know how it is.”

“Can't say I do,” Clint said. Tasha snorted.

“Oh, super spy assassins sign up for it, I guess,” Darcy said.

“That's not entirely true,” Clint said. An uneasy silence fell over them as they walked. Darcy bit her lip as she stopped at the door to an older, unstable building.

“This is... my place,” she said. Her monkey stared at Clint. “Are you guys... Do you have to come with me?”

“Yes,” Tasha said. “If he makes you uncomfortable, I can go up with you. At least one of us has to be in the flat with you.”

“No, it's okay. You guys don't have to shower with me, right?” Darcy asked, twisting her lips. “Because, quite honestly, nobody needs to see that.”

“Nobody will be showering with anybody,” Clint said stiffly. Tasha smirked at his discomfort. He ignored her as Darcy led them to her flat.

The door opened to a dingy hallway. It broke off towards a kitchen that was about twenty years past its renovation date and into a small living room. No television, not couch. Just a few pillows on the floor and a rickety table.

“Welcome to my broke ass apartment,” Darcy said. “I'd offer you a chair, but, well. You see. I'm going to shower. Flights always make me feel grungy, no matter how classy they are. Help yourselves to whatever. Just replace any food you eat, because my next paycheck doesn't come in till Friday.”

She vanished into a dark hall, leaving Clint and Tasha staring at the flat.

“This place is a death trap,” Clint said, taking in the slanted windows and cracked walls. “In more ways than one.”

Tasha made a circuit, eyes sharp on weak points leading into the flat. She kicked a large pillow out of the way and stood in the corner. “You can see all three windows from here, and any shadows coming in through the door. This is going to be our best bet. You stay here. I'll be in the bedroom with Darcy.”

“Kinky.” Clint couldn't help it. Tasha glared at him.

“We're on mission, Barton. Keep it in your pants.” Tasha strode from the room, leaving Clint to set up his nest.

Tasvyer fluttered to the kitchen counter and perched on the decrepit corian. From there, she could see down the other side of the windows and keep an eye on the door.

“Darcy's asleep,” Tasvyer finally said at some point during the night. Clint grunted his acknowledgement. “Are we ever going to sleep with them again?”

“We're on mission, Taz. This is not the time to be talking about this,” Clint said, his voice rough in his own ears. The silence was oppressive, and the flat seemed too small.

“You're not the only one who's missed them,” Tasvyer pushed on. “Damn it, Clint. Seeing Phil like that hurt me too.”

“Not. The. Time,” Clint ground out. Tasvyer puffed up her chest.

“If not now, then when? You send me flying every night. The only time we're together is missions.” She glared at him. “You can't keep running from me, Clint.”

“You're the one who wanted to fly,” Clint said, giving in.

“Because you wanted the space,” Tasvyer said. Clint caught her eye briefly, then let his gaze slide back to the windows and the darkness outside. “Clint.”

“Can we talk about this later?” Clint asked. Tasvyer cocked her head.

“Promise?”

“Swear it.”

Sometime around three in the morning, soft footsteps reached Clint's ears. He twisted towards them, and saw Darcy padding into the room. She waved groggily at him and walked right past him in a massive button up and panties. Clint kept his position, shifting his perspective to include the woken woman.

“Oh wow,” Darcy said, her voice scratchy with sleep. “She's really far away from you.”

Clint turned to see her staring at Tasvyer, a steaming mug in her hand. “Emund and I tried to do that once. It didn't end so well. I spent the entire afternoon in the bathroom vomiting and then we passed out on the couch for twelve hours.”

She sipped from her mug. Emund pushed a few stray bangs out of her eyes, clinging to her shoulder. She made her way slowly into the living room, and sat down on one of the pillows. She dragged a netbook into her lap and booted it up.

“Are you routinely up at this hour?” Clint asked.

“Usually I can sleep for another hour. Insomnia's a bitch,” Darcy said. She started tapping away at the keyboard. “Redhead and Curls said to tell you that she's going to watch the windows in the bedroom. You guys are legit, aren't you? Like those guys that came to take our research.”

“Considering we're from the same organisation, yes,” Clint said. “I was at that site, you know.”

“Really? The one Thor busted into and kicked the crap out of everyone?” Darcy smiled, her face lit by the unnatural glow of her computer screen.

“Yeah. That's the one.”

Darcy settled back against her seat-pillow-thing. “I can imagine. I can't believe Jane didn't take me along. Thor hammering through the guards in the rain... and mud...” Her monkey let out a little sigh.

“Yeah, it was pretty intense,” Clint said, smirking. “His arms are legendary in SHIELD.”

“I bet they are.” Darcy hummed. “I don't think his are the only ones.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, and by the time dawn rolled around, Darcy had slid sideways on her pillow thing. Her netbook fell from limp fingers and rested on the floor. Her position couldn't be comfortable. Clint stood, stretched slightly, and moved to her side. Gently, he arranged so that her position was more relaxing on her body.

Tasvyer landed on his shoulder as Tasha emerged from the hall.

“When's relief coming?” Clint asked.

“Shortly,” Tasha said. “Rogers is taking next shift.”

“Mmmm Capsicle...” Darcy muttered in her sleep, shifting. Her monkey's tail slapped the ground.

Tasha snorted. Clint followed her into the kitchen. “Why is it that on mission you're coherent before coffee?”

“Oh, so we're talking about my personal life now?” Tasha asked, pulling out Darcy's coffee maker. Within seconds she honed in on the coffee grinds and had the pot bubbling. “On mission.”

“No, look. Tasha-” Clint reached for her and she stepped out of his reach.

“On. Mission. Barton,” she said.

“Ugh. Get a room.” Darcy trudged into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. Her glasses pushed up into her hair and created an awful mess of tangles. She saw the coffee maker. “Oh my god. You made coffee. You are the best super spies ever. I love you. Marry me.”

She opened the cabinet above the maker and pulled down three mugs for them. The pot had barely finished brewing before Darcy poured them all steaming mudwater, and quickly disappeared into her room with her precious.

“I'm going to guard the door. You watch for Rogers.” Tasha took her own cup and left him again.

Steve knocked gently on the door a few minutes later, and smiled when Clint let him in. His malamute daemon immediately made a loop of the flat, sniffing out the walls and scents.

“How was it?”

“Quiet. She has insomnia, so she's going to wander around at night. There are three windows in the living room and kitchen. Two in the bedroom. One door. There's a ceiling vent in the bathroom, but it's too small for a human to fit through,” Clint said.

“Oh my god. Captain America.” Darcy froze in the hall, clutching her mug with both hands. “In my apartment. With my bedroom in it.”

“Good luck, sir.” Clint slapped Steve on the shoulder as he and Natasha passed him on their way out. The door closed to Steve's awkward laugh at something Darcy said.

“Fury said he's requisitioned us a home base in a hotel near here,” Tasha said. She drew a burn phone from her pocket and sifted through some maps on it. “It's right around here.”

They checked in, only to find they had been upgraded to the Presidential Suite thanks to one Stantony Ark. Clint shook his head at the complete unsubtlety, and followed Tasha to the room. She immediately started stripping, tossing her clothes on the floor as she walked. Clint followed behind her, grabbing up her tac vest, belt, boots, shirt, and socks. She slipped into the bathroom before tugging off her shirt, and the door closed behind her.

He carefully tucked her clothes into a neat, folded pile on the bed before starting to peel out of his own clothes. When he was down to his boxers he sat on the massive, king sized bed and pulled out his own burn phone. There wasn't much on it. Tasha was the contact for the mission. For all their missions since Loki.

He settled on a game of Tetris, because the archery game's physics engines sucked hard core. An eight year old could program a better one, and Clint couldn't afford to destroy the phone in frustration. By the time Tasha was out of the shower, Clint had gotten bored and Tasvyer was pecking at the blocks with her beak, helping them settle into place.

“You're up,” Tasha said.

Clint sat up to see her clothed in nothing but a white towel, crimping her wet hair. He couldn't ignore the flush of heat seeing her like that, without her gear but never without her weapons.

“Take a photo. I used up all the hot water, by the way.” She made her way to the balcony of the suite. Clint didn't even care. He needed a cold shower.

The water was cold, refreshing, and just what he needed to clear his head. Tasvyer sang her pleasure, her voice echoing off the tile. He stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, to see Tasha curled on the windowsill. She had changed into a fluffy robe, tucked high along her throat.

“I ordered the lobster. It's on Stark's tab,” Tasha said. She waved to a menu on the bed. “Take your pick.”

Clint ended up ordering some sort of sushi.

“Talk to me, Clint,” Tasha said. The midday sun cast a surreal glow to her red hair. “It's just us.”

“What do you want me to talk about?” Clint asked.

“Anything. Everything.” She uncurled from the window and approached the bed, coffee mug in hand. She sat next to him on the soft mattress. Tasvyer trembled between them.

“I'm a liability and you know it,” Clint said.

“That's never stopped me before,” Tasha said. “I was a sleeper agent, Clint. I'm a walking liability. You know it. Fury knows it. Phil knows it. Does that change what you think of me?”

“Of course not-”

“Does it change how you treat me?”

“No, Tasha-”

“Let me finish, Clint.” Tasha leaned close. “It doesn't change how you treat me because I know you'll do what you have to if I turn.”

“I trust you,” Clint said. “I trust you with everything.”

“It's not me you need to be trusting, Clint,” she said. “You need to trust yourself.”

“Why do you keep doing this to me?”

Tasha touched her forehead to Clint's, his face framed with damp ringlets. “Because I can feel you slipping away. And I won't let you leave us.”

She kissed him, slow and lingering, tugging on his lower lip as she drew back. He followed her, desperate for her touch. She surged against him, rolling them over onto the mattress. Their carefully folded pile of clothing was dislodged as she spread him over the duvet.

“You dragged me into this. The least you can do is _stay with me_.” She pressed him into the bed, locking their hips. Clint grasped her waist and sank his fingers into plush terrycloth. “Are you with me?”

“I'm with you,” Clint said. “I want to be with you.”

“Prove it,” Tasha challenged.

Clint lifted his head, capturing her lips. She exhaled, forcing him flat against as she took him.


	4. Chapter 4

They missed their dinner. The bellhop left their plates outside their door, covered to keep them warm. It didn't do much good. By the time Clint was recovered enough to stand, their plates were cool. He brought them into the room and settled them on the bed.

“Not right now,” Tasha said, her face buried in her pillow. “I need another shower.”

“Yeah, that was bad planning,” Clint said. He sliced the wrap on his sushi and popped one in his mouth.

“Gross. I don't understand how you can eat that stuff,” Tasha said, pushing herself up reluctantly. The sheets fell away from her, revealing flushed, firm skin. Clint stared and she ate her lobster cold.

“Phil's returning to SHIELD,” Tasha said. “He's been cleared for desk duty. He's not happy.”

“I can't imagine,” Clint said. “Is he-”

“He's still your handler,” Tasha said, eying him sharply. “So don't go falling on that sword. When we're done here we're going back to him. Just like before.”

A rapping came at the door. Clint slid from the bed and Tasha returned to her nest under the crisp sheets. Opening the door, Clint grinned. “Banner.”

“All right to come in?” Banner stood in the hall, Cruz slightly behind him with a laptop bag slung over one shoulder.

“Tasha's napping. Keep it down.” Clint stepped aside and let them in.

“Tony really outdid himself,” Banner said, entering the suite. His bag hung slack in his grasp as he took in the separate rooms, the adjoining kitchenette, and the opulent bed. “This is...”

“Classy,” Clint said. “Leave it to Stark.”

“How was your night?” Banner asked. He moved to the table in the kitchen and dropped his bag on it.

“Uneventful,” Clint said. “She slept. Got up. Surfed the internet. Slept some more. Not a peep from the city. Natasha made coffee in the morning.”

“That I would pay to see,” Banner said with a smile. Clint shrugged. A laptop appeared on the table, followed shortly by a SHIELD encrypted modem. “Steve's there now?”

“Yes. Speak of the devil.” Clint picked up his phone. “Barton.”

“We've got trouble. Put Agent Romanov on.”

Clint returned to the bed and gently shook Tasha awake. She took the phone and mumbled into it before snapping it shut and chucking it across the room. Clint sighed, and she pulled herself out of bed.

“Darcy's been in contact with Loki,” she said as she moved around the room, slipping into clothing.

Banner hid his eyes so quickly he slammed his head on the table and Cruz quirked a mean smile. Tasha paused in the door to look back at him. “Coming?”

It was the quickest Clint had ever dressed. He followed her back to Darcy's apartment. When they got there, Darcy's daemon was running tight circles around her ankle, and she had her hands fisted in her hair.

“For the last time, he hasn't done anything to me!”

“He's a known criminal. He destroyed half of New York. He's dangerous!”

“He's in prison!” Darcy's voice rang against the peeling plaster walls. “There's not much he can do behind magical, godly bars.”

“He isn't a pen pal, Darcy. He's a mass murderer.”

“Whatever. You're not my father. I would know. He's been dead for twenty years.” Darcy's capuchin slid up her body, throwing his arms around her neck.

Steve threw his hands up, stepping aside gladly when Tasha entered the room. She immediately tugged Darcy away from the men and into the sanctuary of her bedroom.

As soon as the door shut, Steve turned to Clint. “I'm going to call Fury.”

Clint nodded, putting himself back in the vantage spot while Steve made the call. A few terse lines and Steve turned to Clint.

“He says to bring her in.”

“She's a civilian who didn't volunteer,” Clint said.

“She's too much of a liability,” Steve said. Clint's shoulders tightened.

“She should at least have a choice in the matter.”

“We can't let her fall into the wrong hands,” Steve said.

“She's not a weapon,” Clint said. He took a step forward. “You of all people should know that.”

Steve at least looked sheepish. He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Okay. Convince her to come with us.”

Clint nodded and went to the bedroom door. He tapped on it lightly, and twisted the knob when Darcy called him to enter.

“I don't suppose there's a chance you can all leave me alone?” Darcy asked.

“We were actually thinking you could stay with us,” Clint said. “Just for a while. Until we could determine your safety.”

“Um. I have classes and stuff,” Darcy said.

“We'll get what you need to stay up to date with your classes. We just want to make sure you're safe.” Clint approached her.

Tasha stood at the window, arms folded tightly over her chest. She stared resolutely onto the street.

Darcy shifted in place. “You're taking me into protective custody because of my contact with Loki, aren't you?”

Clint grimaced, caught. “Yeah,” he said. “We'd do it to anyone else, if it makes you feel better. We just want you in a place he can't get to you. And if he does, we'll be able to protect you.”

“There's nothing I can do to decline, is there?” Darcy asked.

“No, not really. It'd be easier on everyone if you come willingly,” Clint said.

Darcy heaved a sigh. She dropped to the floor and dragged a backpack from under the bed. She dumped it on top of her duvet before tugging open her vanity and tossing clothes onto the bed.

“Fine,” she said. “But just so you know, Thor is the one who set up this correspondence. He's the one who suggested it. Something about 'keeping his brother in touch with mere mortals'. Who do you think brings our letters back and forth?”

“Good to know,” Clint said. He held his hand out for her overstuffed backpack and she tossed it at him.

Steve was on the phone when they emerged from the bedroom, but he ended the call with a terse, “We're on our way.”

“Don't,” Darcy said, holding up a hand to Steve. “I'm pissed at you.”

She stalked right past him and into the hall. Clint followed her, shrugging at Steve, who looked distraut. Tasha nudged him into motion.

Fury told them to bring Darcy aboard the helicarrier, where Tasha showed her to her own bunk.

“Wow. It's like one of those Japanese hotels. Only thousands of feet in the air. And surrounded by superhumans.” Darcy spun around the small, enclosed space. Clint dropped her bag onto her bunk.

“Fury wants a debriefing,” Tasha said. “He has some things to ask her.”

The entire team was there when they reached the conference room. Darcy sat herself next to Clint, slipping into the chair before Tasha could reach it. Clint raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Fury handed Darcy the velvet satchel, and she carefully unwrapped the alethiometer.

“I need you to ask who is kidnapping people,” Fury said. Darcy made a face at him.

“That's really vague.” She took the alethiometer in hand and twisted the knobs at the top of it, spinning tiny hands along its surface. Clint couldn't help but stare. Darcy's monkey daemon hovered over the dials, staring with frightening intensity as the compass needle flicked between images. “No good. I need you to be more specific.”

“Who kidnapped the Japanese Minister of Defense?” Fury asked solidly.

Again, Darcy bent over the compass. She sat longer this time, the room quiet around her. Finally she blinked furiously, lifting her head and stretching her neck.

“Still no go. It's weird. It's like there's a cloud I can't see past. The needle just keeps spinning when it gets to the last sigil.” She rubbed her eyes and slumped back in her chair. “All I can get is 'the group of old glory'.”

“This is why magic sucks,” Stark said from under his fedora. Tasha nudged his ankles off the edge of the table and his chair slammed back down onto four legs. He caught his hat in one hand and stood smoothly, as if he had planned to get up from the start. “Nothing is concrete. What is 'glory'? How old is it?”

“Maybe we're not asking the right questions,” Steve said. He ignored Stark pacing behind him.

“What question is more specific then 'who kidnapped the minister'?” Stark asked. Steve shrugged.

“I'd like to borrow Darcy for a while to run some tests if that's all right,” Cruz said. Banner stood with Darcy, a hand at the small of her back as he escorted her from the room.

The instant the door shut, Fury turned to Steve. “Full detail on her. 24/7. Nobody even breathes at her without my say so.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said.

“Contact Thor. Make sure his brother is still locked down,” Fury said. His lioness spent a moment glaring at those around the table. “Romanov. Find out if Loki is influencing Darcy. Take Barton with you.”

Clint tensed, but Tasha stood fluidly. He followed her, keeping his face carefully void of emotion. Tasha nodded to him and they left the conference room to Fury giving Steve more orders.

“You need to tell me if you sense anything,” Tasha said as they moved through the corridors of the helicarrier. “Anything that seems out of the ordinary.”

“Yes sir,” Clint said automatically. He would have anyway, but hearing Tasha order him was a relief. She would be watching him. He wouldn't go out of control.

Clint followed Tasha into Banner's lab and watched Cruz stick electrodes on Darcy's forehead and neck.

“Now I feel like a lab rat,” Darcy said. “This is starting to be Not Fun.”

“The fate of the world should never be considered 'fun',” Cruz pointed out. “You have a great power, my lady.”

“For the love of Christ,” Darcy said. “Call me Darcy.” She leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. She tapped her fingers on the arms of her chair, her monkey curled in her lap.

“We're just going to take some cognitive scans while you're reading,” Banner said, handing Darcy the alethiometer. “We're going to ask you some basic questions, ones that require use of the device and some that do not.”

“Lady Darcy!”

A booming voice shattered the serenity of the lab, and Clint whirled, forcing his hand to relax on his knife when Thor followed two Renaissance warriors into the lab. A woman and man made their way to Darcy's side, and she grinned, grabbing at them.

“What are they doing to you, my lady?” the man asked, aghast. He fingered one of the electrodes, and Banner carefully pulled his fingers away.

“It's okay. They're just running some tests,” she said. “I do something nobody else on Earth can do! Isn't that great?”

“You are indeed a unique and gracious woman,” the lady said, twisting her fingers with Darcy's.

“Allow me to introduce the Lady Sif and her warrior, Sir Fandral,” Thor said. “Nick Fury has agreed to designate them as Lady Darcy's protectors.”

“Darcy. Just Darcy,” Darcy said with a sigh.

“May we proceed?” Banner asked, waving a remote around.

“Do, Doctor Banner, I implore you,” Thor said, sweeping out the door with a flourish of his cloak.

Darcy smiled, wriggling back in the chair with her hands held firmly in Sif and Fandral's. Clint didn't really want to get any closer to her with them at her side. They looked formidable, all honed-muscles gleaming armour. Sif had knives everywhere, and Fandral sheathed a sword so elegant Clint wondered how long he spent caring for it a day.

Cruz settled in behind a laptop, and Tasha carefully slid behind her, watching the screen with sharp eyes. The readings on the screen flickered with each question, but spiked when Darcy was asked a question she couldn't possibly know the answer to.

“It measures Dust,” Tasha said during a pause while Darcy rested her eyes.

Cruz nodded. “Not Dust exactly, but the influence of Dust on her consciousness and her daemon during the reading. We're trying to figure out what centers of her brain are interacting with the Dust. If we can determine that, then we can work on creating a way to tune Dust to specific places in the brain. Possibly stimulate mending of bones, or tell cancerous cells to whither and die. The possibilities are endless. And it all begins with her.”

She lifted her eyes to Darcy, and Clint followed her gaze.

The session ended shortly after, and Clint followed Darcy back to her room with her entourage. Tasha waited outside the door, giving pointers to the two Asgardians before securing the door with them. Tasha nodded to Clint and they walked away from the room, towards Clint's quarters on unspoken agreement.

Clint shut the door and turned to find Tasha sitting on his bed, phone to her ear. Her lips pursed, and she clicked it shut after a few rings.

“He's not picking up?” Clint asked.

“No,” Tasha said.

“He might be sleeping. He's still technically recovering.” Clint sat on the bed next to her. She shook her head.

“He always picks up,” she said. “Enur always hears it.”

Clint squashed the rising tendril of jealousy that Tasha knew Phil's daemon's name. Of course she would know her name. While Clint was off being an ice-puppy, she and Phil had worked closely together.

“Stop it.” Tasha glared at him. “I can see what you're thinking. It's not like that.”

“Sorry,” Clint said. Tasha stuck her hand at him, palm up. Clint stared at her, then at her hand, confused.

Tasvyer, however, understood what she wanted. She fluttered from Clint's shoulder and landed on Tasha's forearm, talons digging in firmly. Tasha drew Tasvyer to her, and reached with her free hand.

Clint felt the instant she touched Tasvyer's feathers. Warmth flooded out from his chest, and he closed his eyes against the dizzying sensation of security and safety. She was holding him, holding him as if he were the most fragile, precious thing in all of creation. He let out a half-sob, leaning, and Tasha shored him up, pressing her shoulder to his. He hid his face in her throat, overwhelmed by her tenderness.

She murmured into his hair in Russian, and he didn't understand but he _knew_. He felt her words in his bones, and when he finally, finally opened his eyes, they were horizontal. Clint pressed his lips to Tasha's bosom, breathing deep to ground himself.

“You're okay. You're okay.” Her fingers carded through his hair. “Hush.”

“Tasha...” Clint ran his hand up her fluttering stomach, resting between her breasts.

“Hush,” she said. She touched a kiss to the top of his head. “Rest now.”

When he woke, he was splayed over Tasha. She was propped up against the pillows, phone to her ear once more. She frowned when she hung up. “I still can't reach him.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Talk to Fury?” Clint asked, pushing himself up. He rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the sleep. Tasvyer curled in the sanctuary of Tasha's arm, drowsy.

“Yeah. I'll arrange a shuttle down within the hour.” She slipped from the room.

Clint was able to get out of bed, his legs a bit shaky, and he used the facilities. Tasvyer was rolling around in Tasha's scent when he returned, and he couldn't help laughing at her.

When Tasha burst through the door, face pale, the laughter died in his throat.

“He's gone.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asked, his stomach dropping out.

“He's gone. The agent assigned to his check-in found Enur running circles around our flat. She's on her way in right now.” Tasha moved to her laptop, fingers anxious for something to do. She straightened at the same time Tasvyer launched off the bed, for the door.

Clint froze.

Tasvyer slammed into Phil's border collie, dragging her to the ground with a hoarse shriek. Clint could do nothing but watch as Tasvyer clambered over the dog, pulling her beak through her fur, trying to comfort her.

“What happened?” Tasha asked. She took a step forward. “What happened, Enur?”

“He just vanished.” A feminine, smoky voice issued from the collie. Clint felt his world reorient itself. He knew daemons talked. Steve's daemon had barked orders at him in the middle of a battle, but that hardly counted. Hearing Phil's daemon speak...

“What else do you remember?” Tasha knelt in front of the pile of fur and feathers.

“There was... There was a golden glow,” Enur said. “And it was warm. I didn't feel it. I couldn't feel it. I can't feel him.” She let out a heartbreaking whine that made Clint want to go to his knees beside her.

Tasha held her hands out and Enur jumped into her embrace. Tasha's red curls mixed with Enur's strawberry-blonde fur. Clint wasn't sure he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

“We'll find him,” Tasha said into Enur's fur. “We'll find him and bring him back.”

“It's happening again. I can't go through this again,” Enur said. “I won't survive.”

“You're strong,” Tasha said. “You'll get through this. You will.”

She glared at Clint over Enur's strong shoulder, and he dropped to a crouch. He placed a hesitant hand on Tasha's thigh, and caught Enur's eyes. “We'll find him.”

Enur closed her eyes, resting solidly against Tasha.

“You need to come with us,” Tasha said. “We'll protect you.”

“What's the plan?” Clint asked.

“Rogers is heading up the team. Darcy is going to read the alethiometer and tell us where he is,” Tasha said, standing. “Get Darcy. I'll meet you on the bridge.”

Clint nodded, letting Enur leave with Tasha. He made his way to the living quarters. Tasvyer perched on his shoulder. At the door to Darcy's room, she dug her talons into his skin. “Something's not right.”

Clint unsheathed his thigh blade and gripped it. Carefully, he toed the door open to Darcy's room. The edge nudged up against something, and Tasvyer slipped through the small opening. “It's Thor's warriors. They're down.”

“I need a response team to level six, living quarter nine two,” Clint said into his mic.

“Push the door harder. You won't hurt him,” Tasvyer instructed from inside. Clint shoved, and the door moved enough that he could slide inside. The blonde man lay against the door, unconscious, and the lady was draped over the bed. There was no sign of Darcy.

“Fury, we have a problem,” Clint reported.

“Rogers is on his way,” Fury responded.

Moments later, Steve walked through the door. Clint straightened reflexively.

“Darcy's gone, sir. I arrived to find these two unconscious and non-responsive,” Clint said. “Response team is on their way.”

“I know, I passed them in the hall,” Steve said. His malamute roamed the room, looking for scents. She paused, and Steve crouched beside her. Clint averted his eyes from their conversation, and helped the response team into the room to get Thor's warriors onto stretchers and out of the way. Steve spoke up suddenly. “Has anyone seen Doctor Cruz?”

“She's not in her lab.” Tasha strode into the room. “Banner's gone too.”

“Were they taken together?” Steve asked.

“Most likely,” she said. “There were no signs of struggle, and all their equipment is in place. Their daemons are gone too.”

“Why is she still here?” Steve nodded at Enur. “Why are they different?”

“Coulson's bond was stretched when he died,” Tasha said. Clint flinched, folding his arms tightly over his chest. “She vanished and reappeared in the forests outside the city. We found her. It's possible the people who took Coulson didn't realise she could stray so far from him.”

“Who was the last to see any of them?” Steve asked.

“We escorted Darcy back to her room. Lady Sif and Lord Fandral were with her. They're the last ones that saw her.” Tasha nodded her head towards the Infirmary.

“Who last saw Doctor Banner and Cruz?” Steve asked.

“We left them to stay with Darcy. They may have been alone or alone together,” Tasha said.

“There has to be something we can go on,” Steve said. “When was Doctor Cruz in this room?”

Clint and Tasha exchanged a glance. “She wasn't,” Tasha said. “She stayed in the lab with Bruce.”

“She's been here,” Steve insisted, nodding to his daemon.

“Did anyone bother checking Miss Cruz's credentials?” Stark's voice in their ears made them pause.

“Excuse me?” Steve put a finger to his ear, touching the bud there.

“The woman's a ghost.”

“She's not dead. She has a daemon,” Steve said, closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She doesn't exist,” Stark said. “She's a non-entity. I don't know how else I can put it.”

“How do you know?” Tasha asked.

“Research.”

“Is that what they're calling it nowadays?” Clint couldn't help himself.

“She was vetted by SHIELD,” Tasha said, ignoring him. “All her credentials held up.”

“She wasn't vetted by me,” Stark said. “Her creds are pretty solid, but nothing can stand up to JARVIS' brute force attack. Many a firewall has fallen-”

“The point, Stark,” Steve cut in.

“The point is Allison Cruz's name is actually Tamara Reginald, and she is the high priestess of some sort of cult that worships Dust.”

The wall panel to Clint's left lit up, and a map of New York slid into focus. A red dot slowly circled the city.

“This is the helicarrier,” Stark said. “There are lingering traces of excited Dust in the room, and I was able to trace it to another point in New York City. Do you know that there is an entire underground network of tunnels under the city that are just waiting for evil super-villains to crawl through?”

“The point, Stark,” Steve said tightly.

“Here.” A green dot blinked on the map and the map zoomed in on it, rotating slightly so the image was street level. Buildings outlined in white, and the dot pulsed under the street. “Genius, I tell you. We have ourselves a regular Moleman. Er. Woman. That's where the traces leave off.”

“Will Iron Man be joining us?” Tasha asked.

“Iron Man is already pulling off a sewer grate to head below,” Stark said. “If you care to party, the help would be appreciated.”

Tasha pursed her lips, spinning on her heel to leave the room at a rapid pace. Clint trotted after her, Steve close behind. Steve issued a terse update to Fury over the comm line as they moved. Tasha led them to the hanger, and let Clint slide into the pilot's seat of a chopper.

“It's rush hour,” Clint said, waking the machine. Steve and Tasha strapped in behind him.

“You're an ace pilot,” Tasha said. “Just land it.”

“As you wish,” Clint said. He kicked the chopper to life and lifted from the deck.

Steve called ahead and worked with the police to cordon off a piece of road to land on. Clint set her down easily, and they hopped out. Clint snatched his bow from it's carry case as Tasha holstered no fewer than four pistols on her person. They saw the grate Iron Man had removed, and carefully lowered themselves into the sewers.

“Gross,” Clint said. “Smells like shit.”

“Well said.” Tasha fisted one hand in Enur's ruff.

Steve's malamute trotted ahead, sniffing out the path. Tasvyer huddled on Clint's shoulder. Her hawk eyes were almost useless in the dark, and the sewer overwhelmed her sense of smell. Clint couldn't imagine how Steve's daemon was functioning. Tasvyer was nauseous already.

A faint light flickered in the tunnel ahead, and Tasha took point around a corner to reveal Iron Man waiting for them.

“Took you long enough,” Iron Man said. He pointed down a tunnel. “This leads into one of the underground chambers. Out of the sewers, Cap.”

“Good.” Steve's face was pale in the light of Iron Man's chest plate. “Let's go.”

Iron Man led them to a door. The wood, unlike the rest of the tunnel, was new and fresh. The brass on the handle gleamed under Iron Man's hand as he turned it and pushed the door open.

“Whoa.” Steve stepped into the antechamber, his jaw dropping open.

The ceiling expanded up and up, so far the torchlight couldn't reach it. Clean, uncracked tile glistened underfoot as they walked in.

“Welcome to the birthplace of a new world order.”

A woman's voice rang out, echoing around them. Clint canvassed the room, searching for the source of the voice. He could see nothing. Tasvyer took off into the rafters, disappearing in the shadows. Enur bristled between Clint and Tasha, and she kept one hand on her neck to prevent her from leaping away from them.

“They're here,” Iron Man said. “There are life signs further under us. I'm going in.”

“Miss Romanov,” Steve said. Tasha nodded and went after Iron Man. “Barton, with me.”

Clint fell in behind Steve, swallowing back his heart as he lost sight of Tasha. His bow sang in his grip, reassuring him. This he knew. This was familiar.

“Where do you have our people?” Steve called into the ceiling. “What have you done with them?”

“We merely had to put them some place safe for the revolution,” the voice said. “And provide the Oracle with the incentive she needs to give us Revelation.”

“Fantastic. Religious nuts,” Clint said under his breath. Steve politely said nothing, moving swiftly towards the source of the voice. Clint remained close on Steve's six, arrow nocked as they closed in on the source of the echo. Tasvyer had found her, and it was Tamara. Clint implored her to stay out of sight.

She agreed, but it wasn't enough. He felt panic, and then something reached inside him and _twisted_ viciously. He gasped, unable to stop himself, and went to his knees.

“Barton!” Steve's hands gripped his shoulders. “What is it?”

Clint's vision swam and an insidious swell of nausea washed over him. He vomited, narrowly avoiding Steve's patent shoes. He choked, fisting a hand in Steve's arm.

“Someone's got her,” he managed. “Someone's got her.”

“Hang in there, son, we'll get to her,” Steve said. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Clint didn't stand so much as he was carried by Steve. Steve hooked a hand under Clint's armpit and dragged him along, towards the light of an opened door that had just spread over the atrium. They burst through the door and into a massive white room.

Steve froze, surprised, and Clint leaned heavily against him, gasping for breath.

“Welcome, Captain.” Tamara stood in the centre of the room, speaking over the shrieks of a sharp-shinned hawk gripped tight in her hands.

Clint felt like throwing up again, but he had nothing left to expel. He gagged, Steve's grip tightening painfully on his arm.

“Give her back,” Steve said carefully.

“Oh, I think not, Captain.” She smiled. “You see, the Oracle has been less than open to the idea of assuming her rightful place in the world order. I believe we can use this man to encourage her efforts.”

“What do you mean? What oracle?” Steve asked, shifting closer.

“The Oracle, who controls the knowledge of the universe.” Tamara's smile was not pleasant. “The Lady Darcy.”

“Where are you keeping them?” Steve asked. “Where are they?”

“They are comfortably restrained,” Tamara said.

Clint's eyes fell on a machine pushed against the wall. He tensed, pulling closer to Steve. “Sir, that's a-”

“Quite correct, Agent Barton. That is, indeed, an Asriel Guillotine.” She moved towards it, squirming hawk in hand. She shoved the hawk into a cage on the end of the machine and slammed the door shut, locking it. Tasvyer beat against the mesh doors of the cage, and Steve was the only thing keeping Clint from her.

“Clint!” Darcy cried out as she was dragged into the room, a beefy man on each arm. Her monkey trailed behind her, tugged along by their bond. When Darcy saw them, she tore free of the men holding her and ran to them, slamming into Steve. He pulled her close with his free arm, shielding her from Tamara. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Clint gasped, legs going weak. Darcy's daemon scampered up his leg on his way to Darcy, sending warmth through Clint. Darcy clutched her capuchin tight.

“This is a simple matter, my Lady Darcy,” Tamara said. “We merely request that you read the alethiometer. If you do not, we will Sever your friends, one by one. Starting with the hawk.”

“You can't!” Darcy cried. “That's inhuman!”

“We only wish for you to take up your rightful place as the Oracle,” Tamara said. “Once you realise the power you contain, you will gladly assist us in our endeavours to better the world.”

“You can't make the world better by hurting people,” Steve said. “Let her go.”

“It's okay, Darcy,” Clint said, grabbing her arm. “Don't do it.”

“Clint-” She started, cutting herself off. Her fingers buried deep in her daemon's fur and he clung to her, chittering in distress. “I have to. They have everyone-”

“We'll be all right,” Clint said.

“Read the alethiometer, Lady Darcy.” Tamara placed her hand on the lever of the Asriel Guillotine. “Answer the question I asked you.”

“I can't,” Darcy said, her voice pitching high and desperate. “I don't know any of that! The alethiometer said the codes change every minute-”

“What codes?” Steve asked urgently.

“She wants the codes to the nuclear warhead launch system,” Darcy said. “She wants to control the world.”

“Your time is short, Lady Darcy,” Tamara said. “I request you assist us or I will be forced to use this machine.”

“I can't!” Darcy shouted.

“Don't!” Steve jerked, and Clint heard the machine slam.

He felt a brutal tearing, cutting off his breath. He was driven to his knees, and he thought he heard Tasha calling for him, but her voice morphed into Tasvyer's until he couldn't tell the difference. Their voices swirled in his head, crying and screaming and digging in until the ache in his head exploded and he fell into darkness.

...*...

“Come back to me, Clint. I know you can hear me. I need you to open your eyes.”

Hands framed his face, smooth and cool against his heated skin. He opened his eyes to Tasha leaning over him. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheeks.

“Welcome back,” she said. She looked up. “He's awake.”

Clint tried to lift his head, but Tasha held him firm. Phil's face swam into view, his tie dangling over Clint's chest. Clint blinked, trying to breathe.

“You've got a tie,” he said.

Phil laughed, hiding his face briefly with a hand before nodding. “I keep one in my pocket at all times.”

Clint reached for him, and Phil grabbed his hand. He ran his free hand down Clint's side, rubbing warmth back into him. Tasha helped prop his head up, and he was hit in the chest by a ball of feathers. Tasvyer scrambled at his suit, talons scraping along leather and teflon. He grabbed her close, their connection throbbing under his skin. She was still his.

“Wha' 'appened?” Clint asked, grunting as he sat up.

“You weren't in the proper placement for the machine to work,” Phil said, his hand on the small of Clint's back. “The energy from your bond tearing nearly tore the room apart. Iron Man was able to isolate the residual frequencies of your bond's resonance and stitch it together. The team is rounding up the other members of the cult. And Nat beat the crap out of Tamara.”

“She shot first,” Tasha said under her breath.

Clint laughed, leaning into the warm comfort of Phil's body. Tasha's hand rested on his head, and Enur trotted over to them.

“Clint, there's someone I'd like you to meet,” Phil said. He reached out and placed his hand on Enur's back. “This is Enur.”

The border collie dipped her head in greeting. Clint cleared his throat. “Glad to meet you. Phil, this is Tasvyer.” Tasvyer plumped up her feathers, letting out a soft cry. “I call her Tas.”

“I am so pleased to meet you, Tas,” Phil said. “You are beautiful.”

Tasha's hand left Clint's hair and he glanced at her to find her tugging the zipper on her suit. She let the fabric of her suit hang open, revealing a small, fitted box hanging under her sports bra. She flicked the latch with shaking fingers and a lizard crept out into her palm.

“Boys,” she said, hiding the shake in her voice well. “This is Cerale.”

Pressed against Phil, Clint knew he wasn't breathing either. Tasha held her daemon to them. Tasvyer stared at it. The lizard stretched her arms up, revealing tiny wings. It wasn't a lizard. It was a-

“Dragon,” Phil said reverently. Tasha smiled.

...*...

The cult was found responsible for all the high profile kidnappings, and all the hostages were set free. Darcy was returned to her graduate studies, though accompanied by Lady Sif and Lord Fandral. Fury ordered Clint home for recuperation. Apparently being Severed from one's daemon counted as psychological torture. He'd have to go through counseling again.

But right now he wasn't thinking about that.

How could he think about anything when Phil was licking and biting his way down Clint's bare chest?

“You're lucky you're on bed rest,” Tasha said from somewhere above him. “Because I'm long over due for some oral.”

Clint slid his hand up her calf, touching a kiss to the inside of her muscle. “I'm not opposed.”

Tasha hummed, shifting luxuriously over him, the leg that wasn't his pillow draped over him. Phil took the skin of his hip between his teeth, and Clint arched, exhaling heavily.

Somewhere on the end of their bed, their daemons lay curled in a warm, fluffy pile of feathers and fur. Cerale hid in the curve of Enur's elbow, and Tasvyer was nestled comfortably between Enur's two front paws. Clint felt nothing but the bolstering satisfaction of being surrounded by skin and comfort.

“You're not allowed to go without me,” Tasha said softly, her fingers in Clint's hair.

“I wasn't trying,” Clint said.

“You stopped breathing, Clint. It wasn't pretty.” Tasha tugged his hair just short of painful. “Never again.”

“Not on my watch,” Phil swore. “You'll never go where we can't follow.”

Clint closed his eyes and let them reaffirm that he was alive.


End file.
